


Perfect Is Overrated

by Nilsine



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, F/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilsine/pseuds/Nilsine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tifa pulls away and lets go. She grabs me by the shirt, falls back on the couch, and drags me with her. That’s when I begin to panic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Is Overrated

**Author's Note:**

> Previously from Fanfiction.net. Also posted on Destiny's Romantic Fanfiction.
> 
> This is actually based on a Gokusen fanfic I chanced upon on Live Journal.

Let’s face it: women like me. And I’m not saying it to brag. 

Because I’m a delivery boy, I get out a lot. I get the “stares”. Most girls keep their distance, which is fine for me. But then there’s the occasional, outspoken girl who decides to approach me and “look at my bike”. Cid says I’m crazy to turn them down. As I’m in my current situation, I think he may have been right on the money. 

I come home, back to Seventh Heaven, but it isn’t the same. We moved to a bigger place six months ago. The place is still packed, and the new waiters and waitresses are rushing like mad to get drinks on the table. Tifa’s working like a bat out of hell at the bar, and it’d probably **be** hell if she had been by herself. I try to sneak past her in the ruckus, but she notices anyway and waves. I wave back, awkwardly, and I don’t know why. 

I take my time going upstairs. It’s been a long day. And it’s different from our last home. This time, the entire bar is downstairs, and our house and kitchen are upstairs. I like it that way, and the kids sleep better at night. I saunter into my room, strip, and get into the shower. My showers are always quick; my motto is “get clean and get out.” Afterwards, I’m walking around the living room, still rubbing the water out of my hair. I’m out of my work clothes and into a plain t-shirt and jeans. The kids are away from home, with Barret. Everything’s going well…

I hear footsteps coming upstairs. It’s Tifa, and in her hands, she’s holding two glass mugs of beer. She looks tired as all get up, but her face lights up when she sees me. 

“Hey!” she calls out. 

“Isn’t it happy hour?” I ask. 

“I’m on my break.” 

I walk over, now drying the back of my neck. I reach out to take a mug, and Tifa’s staring at me. I take a sip to cool me down, and she’s still staring at me. Usually, I don’t have a problem with that; it’s Tifa after all. But it seems different than the other times. I finally look her in the eye, but she turns away…with a blush on her face? 

Tifa shakes her head and goes to the couch. She plops herself down, almost slams her mug on the coffee table, and lets out a huge sigh. Her body slumps on the couch.

“I need a vacation,” she groans. 

“Join the club,” I reply. 

I sit on the couch next to her and watch as she tilts her head back and blows invisible steam. She cocks her neck and frowns. And for the first time since whenever, I take a good look at her. 

Tifa is a beautiful woman. Nice, white skin. Great legs. Wine-colored eyed. Chocolate hair. And really, really, really big… 

I need a gun to shoot myself with. 

Unable to resist, I reach over and touch her cheek. Her whole body flinches, and she gives me a questioning look. 

“Something on your face,” I lie. 

Tifa nods, but she doesn’t look convinced. And I could’ve sworn she had moved closer to me on the couch. She strains to take her mug and gulps down almost half her beer. 

“How did the deliveries go?” Tifa asks. 

I shrug and keep sipping my mug. “It was okay, but it was just… so long.” 

“Well, business is a nightmare,” she declares. 

“But you’re getting so many customers,” I answer. 

“That’s why it’s a nightmare.” 

I grin, trying to hold back laughter. She smiles back and brushes her hair behind her shoulder. I see the skin of her neck, and for a moment, I stop breathing. Her earrings are dangling; her ears are small, feminine, delicate. I feel my body scooting closer to her on the couch. And again, she seems to be doing the same. I drink the beer down with more zeal and put it away on the table. 

“If another drunk hits on me,” she says, “I’m gonna scream.” 

“If another drunk hits on you,” I respond without thinking, “I’ll kill ‘em.” 

Tifa slams her mug on the table, bends over, and burst in laughter.  I’m glad she does…because that sounded rather embarrassing. She straightens back up and sits back. But instead of the couch, she backs into my chest. We ‘re sitting closer on the couch than we thought. My heart skips a beat, and I hope she doesn’t feel it. 

I see her face turn a hundred shades of red, but she doesn’t move. She lets her head fall back a bit and looks into my eyes, but she still doesn’t move. My breaths are coming faster. 

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispers. 

She tries to move away, but I don’t let her. My hands grab her shoulders before I know what’s what. Tifa gasps lightly; she looks startled... and something else. There’s something in her eyes, calling toward me, but I don’t have a clue. 

“Cloud?” 

She’s calling me, and I don’t have a clue. I’m looking down onto the cushions. 

“Cloud?” 

I look up, and her eyes are shining. I feel as if I’m channeling something. 

“Cloud?” 

Everything seems to happen all at once. My head ducks down, and I cover her lips with mine. At first, I hear a tiny cry of surprise. But then, she kisses back immediately, and she is not shy. Everything’s fine then. The kissing’s fine. I’m familiar. 

She puts her hands on my cheeks to deepen the kiss. That’s fine.

She decides to wrap her arms around my neck, and I wrap my arms around her waist. That’s fine…and nice. 

She pushes her body closer to mine. Our chests are touching. My mouth is getting a little dry, but everything’s still fine. 

Tifa pulls away and lets go. She grabs me by the shirt, falls back on the couch, and drags me with her. 

That’s when I begin to panic. 

Yup… Cid was right after all. I should’ve gotten a girl. Because if I had, I wouldn’t be fumbling without a clue of what I was doing! 

Sephiroth must be laughing at me from the lifestream. 

And now, I have her pinned underneath me on the couch, with her black vest unzipped. I’m reaching underneath her white tank top, feeling her skin, reaching for you-know-what’s. The bra is an annoyance. I’m barely thinking straight, and all I can think of is “Soft! So soft!” or “oh baby, baby!”  but most of all, “Tifa!” 

I know I’m about to humiliate myself. I take my hand away and stop all movement. Tifa opens her eyes and gives me another questioning stare, but it’s different this time. She looks as if she were a starving animal who just had its meal snatched from under its nose. Her hair’s in disarray, with a few strands sticking in her mouth. I get off quick, putting a good distance between her and me. She sits up and jumps off of the couch. 

“Cloud!” 

I catch my breath and rub the back of my neck. My face feels hot. 

“I think,” I say quietly, “that you should…go back to work. Now!” 

Tifa scowls and slips her vest off, tossing it onto the floor. She’s giving me that predator look. The same look she gives to her opponents. 

“My break doesn’t end for another forty-five minutes,” she replies in husky manner. “I’m not going anywhere…” 

Of course, Tifa never took off her shirt for her opponents either. I see the black bra that was underneath, and my mind goes blank. Until she jumps me. 

Yes…she jumps _me_. 

I’ve been doused in mako. I’ve been chased by remnants. I fought Sephiroth himself. I’ve saved the world twice. Yet, as soon as Tifa’s body collides with mine, I let out a yelp, and we both crash into the floor. She straddles me and pins me down like a lioness on the hunt. I am afraid. I am very afraid. 

She grabs the neck of my shirt and pulls at it until I can barely breath. 

“T-tifa,” I stammer. 

“What?!” she yells. “You don’t want me?!” 

“You’re…choking meeeee….” 

She gasps and lets go. I suck in the ever-loving air. And it then occurred to me: sex with Tifa might literally kill me. 

But then, she’s blushing again, embarrassed. 

“S-sorry,” she says. “I haven’t done this before. I don’t know what I’m doing…I’m nervous…but I really want this! With you, I mean…” 

“I’d like that.” 

It comes out of my mouth before I know it. _“I’d like that”_? I’ve never sounded dorkier in my whole life. 

Or maybe not, because Tifa smiles in relief, knowing I wouldn’t give up on her. I finally feel myself relax. I don’t really mind it when she knocks me down, and my head hits the ground. 

Perfect, after all, is overrated. 


End file.
